Can't Handle Us
by ElisAttack
Summary: Ferris Bueller as a Hacker, Cam as his Hitter, and Sloane as the Grifter. OT3 future Leverage crossover fic.


**Don't own these characters**

University and Ferris was simply not a match to be. Considering he hacked into Harvard's database to place himself on the list of top scoring admissions, proved the relationship to be one fraught with pain and suffering, on the institution's behalf, of course.

It could have been alright if Cam decided to join him; he was already on the entrance list. His best friend the over achiever.

But his asshole father's reaction to the mutilated Ferrari swore Cam away from anything in America. He went and joined the Peace Corps. Somewhere near Somalia. Eritrea, Ferris believes Cam said on graduation day.

Sloane on the other hand moved. Technically her father moved, dragging her whole family along to Kansas, after the incestuous rumors spread by the Dean became too much to ignore at the dinner parties. The last sniff of revenge from a poor pathetic (now graying) man. So she dropped off the fucking face of the earth, and out the window went his marriage proposal.

In the end Ferris was sent off, by his ever proud parents, to Harvard. All alone. And was it ever fucking boring.

Ivy kids were monotonous. Eat, pray, love. Except it was eat, smoke, fuck.

Either way they were dumb, party jockheads, that spent the whole day gwaffawing without a single intelligent thought in their brains (boring), or they made Cam look like Jeff Spicoli (tedious). There was absolutely no middle ground.

Ferris resigned himself to days spent hacking into US government sites, trying to find the secret behind area 51. Which turned out to be an R & D facility, looking into the elasticity of Canadian curds used in poutine. (He had to say they were at least ten years behind, compared to India's data.)

Eventually he decided to leave Harvard, well decided wouldn't be the right word. It was decided for him. Apparently not all of Harvard's records were computerized. A random secretary found some discrepancies with his finances, and found it strange that Ferris hadn't paid a dime for his wholesome American education. (Technically his parents paid for it, but Ferris decided to save the money for more constructive means.)

So six years, and 30 or more new identities later Ferris was running a very profitable and illegitimate business in Madrid.

Whew, the nightlife, incredible. What could he say, the life of a hacker, never dull in the slightest.

The fact that his street name was Sloane, had absolutely nothing to do with any regressed feelings on his behalf, he swears. He always liked the name, plus he was never short of a good lay.

And the fact that he calls his proud system of viruses that could cripple nuclear defense firewalls, the Cam series, has nothing to do with a sense of longing for the past.

In the end it has the effect he may, or may not, have hoped for.

A significantly bigger (muscles), and more rugged (fucking hot) Cam standing in his doorway, ringing his bell.

"Hi."

"Hi..."

"I got your message."

Huh. So maybe it was intentional.

Anyways Cam brought benefits with him, including the ability to open a huge can of whoop ass on anyone messing with Ferris. Including the postman (god, did that mail stealing asshole ever deserve it.)

Sometimes he missed the old awkward skinny Cam but then mornings rolled around. Cam never wore shirts in the morning, and he was so much more liberal with those childhood grins Ferris remembers so vividly.

He wouldn't say he was exactly hot for his best friend. Who was he kidding? The kid grew up to be sex in a tight, tight body. His arse alone. Ferris sometimes daydreamed about tossing euro coins at him, watching them bounce right off, earning him a few strange looks from Cam.

But he was still the same old Cam, oblivious as all hell. And eventually his straight laced morals began to rub off on Ferris. He no longer sold his viruses or his hacking skills, to the highest bidder, but instead the one that could do the most good. And often they were very short on the monetary funds.

Ferris didn't squabble the tiny stuff, though, he just took even more than usual from the rich, giving to the poor what they deserved, but keeping a small amount (39%) for himself.

It felt good.

But after a short squabble with some Basque independence rebels over a couple bottles of Izarra, they lost their territory in Madrid.

Luckily Cam offered a few suggestions.

"I hear Paris looks amazing this time of year."

Which was unlikely since it was the beginning of spring, and Paris was likely to be a wet, flooded, hell hole.

"Eh, might as well."

Thing is he was always avoiding Paris, for the longest time. They made a promise all three of them, Him, Cam and Sloane, that they would conquer to Paris together (pinky swear). It felt weird sitting on that plane, only the two of them.

Imagine his surprise, when landing at Roissy, he found none other than Sloane Peterson waiting at the gate, holding up a sign with the words "Sausage King of Chicago" printed out in all seriousness. He saw Cam hide a smirk in his hand.

Oh so that's how it was, he knew Cam couldn't forget.

And if he thought Cam was hot. Sloane was indescribable. She looked like she stepped of the pages of Vogue. She reeked of high fashion, wearing Channel no 5's lesser know cousin no 19, with an air of sophistication.

Cam walked up to her, took her hand, and pressed a mockingly airy kiss over it, stepping aside and introducing her to Ferris with his eternal crooked grin.

"Mr. Bueller, I'd like you to meet Sloane Peterson, grifter extraordinaire."

Ferris spent the next few hours sporting a grin the size of the Cheshire cat's.

His life would never be boring again.

It was an understated fact that the three of them would live together (happily ever after, it was only logical, of course). Sloane already owned a building on the Rue de la Harpe, so there was no need for them to enjoy the presence of a snoopy real estate agent.

Ferris hopped right back into his Robin Hood criminal ways, Cam somehow convincing Sloane to join them down their moral path (of the ninja).

Ferris was the hacker/mastermind (extraordinaire), he planned everything out on all their jobs, right down to the point, defeating anything technological standing in their way. Sloane was the grifter, worming her way through people, and shifting identities with the drop of a hat. And Cam was the hitter, protecting the team with all of his (sexy, sexy) strength.

Conquer Paris, pshh. They conquered Paris within the first week. Now, Ferris thinks, he should have set higher goals for himself when he was younger.

It left them to focus on other things. Art, for one, the smoldering sexual tension between the three of them, for another.

Sometimes he caught looks tossed between Cam and Sloane, looks that would have made any god fearing Parisian grandmother blush from shame (lust).

It was something he found himself extremely okay with, to the point where he spent much of his showering time picturing them together, sometimes he would even add himself to the mix, making for a delightful cacophony of images (yummy).

Sometimes they even threw those looks at him. No words could describe how that made him feel. It was a tossup between butterflies, and pin-them-down-and-screw-them-silly feelings.

But so far the sexual tension remained just that, tension, building up, just waiting for the levee to break.

That breaking levee was Ferris.

After a particularly tricky job involving the Milieu, and some crack addicted cheese artisans. Ferris was in a warehouse trying to locate a safe loaded full of the green stuff (or multi coloured stuff, in the case of the euro).

Sloane was out with the boss trying to convince him he was the next Turner (more like Bob Ross) to keep him away from the warehouse, Cam was with her, watching her back.

Ferris was so busy listening to Sloane's practiced French accent through the earbuds, he didn't even notice the man sneaking up on him, until he felt the sharp cracking pain on his head, and everything went numb.

He woke up with a funnel shoved down his throat. Followed by French hisses and yelling that he only caught the tail end of (don't tell Sloane, but Ferris kept putting off the French lessons, his instructor had a really annoying nasally voice).

When the men did not get an answer from Ferris (how did they expect one, there was something in his mouth), they poured water down his throat until he came up sputtering. He finally caught the last two sentences the men were saying, something about the Corsica mafia and territory. Which meant a) they will probably kill him after a slow demonstratively filmed death, and b) Sloane and Cam's gig was not up. so they would remain safe.

Small pleasures, life's all about the small pleasures, he thought before passing out.

He awoke to find himself tied to a bed.

Except it was warm on either side of his body. Turning his head he spotted Cam on his left sporting a nasty black eye. And on his right, Sloane with a split lip. What he thought were restraints, were actually arms and legs thrown haphazardly over his thighs and stomach so that he was effectively pinned to the bed. His bed, he noticed by the sheets.

"Huh. Well this is new."

Sloane opened one sleepy eye.

"Hi."

"Hi back."

He turned to face Cam who was now awake and touching (petting) his hair.

"So anyone want to tell me how I got here."

"You screamed, Ferris, then you wouldn't answer the coms."

"Not like a little girl, I hope."

Cam snuggled closer. Sighing into his neck, he whispered into Ferris' skin,

"Exactly like a little girl."

Ferris grinned.

Sloane was rubbing circles into his chest,

"Don't scare us like that, love. When we walked up on that scene, you should have seen Cam go downtown on the men that hurt you, I may have contributed a few punches myself."

Ferris looked down at his chest seeing their conjoined hands, bruises and cuts over the knuckles. He picked them up, and brought them to his mouth, kissing them consecutively.

"I fucking love you both."

"Yeah, we know. Go back to sleep."


End file.
